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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156454">Heart to Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StannisTheMannis69/pseuds/StannisTheMannis69'>StannisTheMannis69</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, Lighthearted, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sappy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StannisTheMannis69/pseuds/StannisTheMannis69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Asterius struggles to be clear about his feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heart to Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a silly little one-off trifle, the result of a Hades fic exchange with <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EightDaffodils/pseuds/EightDaffodils">EightDaffodils</a>. Hope it amuses you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A crescent-shaped grove of marble trees, with garlands of small twinkling crystals for foliage, surrounded the cliffside baths - themselves defined by an octagon of column-borne architraves enclosing shimmering pools and cedar benches and soft, luminous fleeces stretched on wooden frames. The air was hung with fragrant mist, which rose in great clouds from the distant below, where the sheer face of the cliff disappeared into the froth of the great river Lethe, the river’s rushing murmur ever-soothing, ever inviting to calm and peace and blissful forgetting.</p><p>Two figures pivoted, flexed and stretched near the parian step-edge of a pool. One was horned and so immense as to dwarf the other, who in different company would have stood apart as a peerless specimen of Attic manhood. Though often crowded by lesser heroes and besotted shades of Elysium - who vied for the honour of filling in as annointers and attendants to these two paragons - on this occasion Asterius, Bull-Man of Minos, and Theseus, King of Athens, found themselves alone. </p><p>That was how Asterius preferred it. After his short, miserable life in the devouring solitude of the Labyrinth, the Minotaur was not - and would never become - a gregarious and sociable type. He cherished these quiet moments in the company of the only person in the afterlife who mattered to him.</p><p>Well, sort of quiet.</p><p>“A splendid performance as always, friend Asterius!” Theseus hoisted an amphora into the air and raised his face to its flared mouth. Oil poured over the King’s flawless body, lighter and less viscous than olive oil, but no less salutary to a fighter’s skin in the aftermath of chafing armour and the abrasions of the arena. </p><p>“They are hardly a concern anymore, King.” Asterius voiced what he knew Theseus was thinking. Though the pair had just won a handsome victory over a line-up of challengers in the arena, so driven and ambitious was the Champion of Elysium that only the passing of the Prince of Hades still served to stir his blood. </p><p>There were some, the bull-man knew, who resented Theseus for his manner, who preferred simpering false modesty to his bold proclamations of prowess. Asterius understood better. The Champion disdained mediocrity in others… disdained it loudly, true… but he held himself to the strictest standard of all. Only being the best, above all others, no matter their provenance and advantages, would do for Theseus. Nothing less. Whenever Asterius mused on that lately, a strange warmth spread from the pit of his stomach to fill his massive chest. The warmth, the silent euphoria, travelled upwards, forcing a bovine smile on its way, until the very tips of his horns tingled at the thought.</p><p>“But the adoration of our audience, Asterius, remains ever the glorious reward!” the Athenian exclaimed. “Don’t you find its taste sweeter than nectar? Sweeter even than the ambrosia of Olympus! It is my due as Champion and yours, as my indispensable bondmate!”</p><p>Bondmate. Asterius grunted and dragged a hydrabone comb through the springy curl of mane on his head. It was better, at least, than friend. But it no longer felt like enough.</p><p>The king, for his part, sighed as he smeared the oil about with both hands. “We must have wearied them all with excitement and sent them slouching to their rest. Why, there’s no one around! Would you prove yourself indispensable one more time this day, and attend to my back?"</p><p>“Y- yes, of course,” said Asterius, and cleared his throat, which had suddenly gone dry. He set the comb aside and threaded his massive fingers into the ears of another large, squat amphora. Lifting it as though it were no heavier than a teacup, he tipped it slowly over Theseus’s neck and shoulders. His free hand caught the stream and rubbed oil into the swells and valleys of hard muscles, polishing tracts of skin to a shiny gleam before moving on, circling lower, until he found himself massaging the other man’s buttocks and upper thighs.</p><p>“Ahhhhh. Eternal thanks, Asterius.” The Athenian arched his back like a cat. </p><p>He’d touched Theseus countless times. Why, then, was his heart now pounding and his loins awakening?</p><p>“Theseus,” Asterius began, and immediately hated the way his voice rumbled lower when he was uncertain of himself, as if it sought to hide his meaning in its depths. He forged on, less audaciously than he intended. “Do you… does it truly disappoint you when you and I are all alone like this?”</p><p>“Of course not,” answered Theseus and turned around, displaying the full splendour of his body. “Perish the very-” His blue eyes went wide with sudden agitation, and the oily shine of his face added to the manic quality of his expression. “Asterius! What is this!? You are wounded!”</p><p>Asterius lifted his arm and looked down. Indeed, a reddish-brown wound scored his ribs from the armpit to the upper waist, where presumably the bronze of his zoster had halted the blow. It would, of course, be of no lasting consequence.</p><p>“That… happens in combat, King.”</p><p>Theseus lunged for a nearby frame, grabbed a fistful of fleece, and dunked it with a loud splash into a basin of Lethean water. “From plodding tyros such as those we faced, a mere scratch is an affront! Who dared?” He pressed the faintly-glowing rag to Asterius’s side and the bull-man shivered at his touch and the intensity of his emotion. “Meleager? Caeneus? Atalanta!? Pah! I vow to you, Asterius, the next time my shield shall interpose itself against any such insolent endeavour and my spear shall punish its very audacity!”</p><p>“I can take care of myself,” Asterius protested reflexively. </p><p>He kept his arm up and stared down at Theseus’s slicked blond hair, which moved around while his companion furiously bathed the wound. Water from the river of oblivion could make the flesh forget its injuries as readily as it cleansed the mind of old sorrows, but it did nothing to cool Asterius down in that moment. He longed to bury his muzzle in that hair. His body was beginning to respond in earnest.</p><p>“Intolerable… presumptuous…” muttered the Athenian as he worked to efface the injury.</p><p>“Thank you, Theseus.” The bull-man took a deep, ragged breath and clenched his fists to try to master himself. “It’s all but gone now. I think I will go for a walk.”</p><p>“Oh, very well. But do not tarry long, my fine friend! Pankration practice awaits!” </p><p>“I’m never late for wrestling, King.” Asterius restored his chiton and tassets and hauled his labrys up over his shoulder. As he trod toward the marble grove, he was consumed by an instant feeling of regret.</p><p>He meandered for hours that felt like years. His wanderings took him through moss-lined stone gardens, across bright clearings where the air was thick with butterflies, and past phoenix hatcheries where great red eggs pulsed hot like little suns. All the while, he arrived no closer to insight or resolution. He was not even sure exactly what it was he felt for Theseus, beyond their unbreakable combat-forged bond of friendship. And whatever it was… did it matter, in the end? The Champion of Elysium always knew exactly what he wanted, and had no lack of confidence or ability to express himself with nuance. If he had felt the same, he would have said so at once. Which meant he did not. And that was that.</p><p>A dark mood went churning through Asterius’s mind. He halted in the middle of a bridge over the Lethe, rested one enormous forearm on the wooden barrier, and stared into the rippling waves, with their countless dancing points of light, until his eyes stung.</p><p>On his way back, he spotted something unusual behind the row of columns and statuary that lined his path: a door, decorated with tarnished bronze and partly recessed into rock. An old, worn carving of one of the Fates hunched over its arch. Curious, Asterius approached it. The door had no handles, and a testing push proved it to be resilient. Perhaps it was not intended to be opened by ordinary means. And perhaps it was not a good idea, in the realm of stern Lord Hades, to meddle with extraordinary things. But he was the Bull of Minos, in foul spirits, and he would not be stymied. Certainly not by a door. Here was something force could solve.</p><p>He took a backward step, raised his labrys overhead, and swung mightily. Though the gap between the door’s halves was sliver-thin, he buried the blade’s edge inside it with perfect accuracy. The blow rattled the door and broadened the gap to a finger’s width. Encouraged, Asterius put all his weight against the handle, using the labrys as a lever, until, with a terrible groan of masonry and metal, the door gave way. </p><p>A rattling cackle echoed in the darkness behind it.</p><p>Asterius wedged himself through the half-opened entrance and walked up several steps into an inconspicuous chamber. It was lined with the ordinary moss of Elysium and illuminated by ethereal light from blue fire that writhed in large gilded braziers. A figure in flowing robes and a wide-brimmed hat floated above ground at the end of a half-buried stone walkway. Its right hand held an oar.</p><p>“Charon,” whispered Asterius in his deep voice.</p><p>The Boatman inclined his head and gestured at his wares.</p><p>Asterius examined the objects on nearby display, at the feet of colossal bronze statues - a still-beating bestial heart, a smoking droplet of vile darkness which he could scarcely bear to behold, a bushel-basket of pomegranates. And there was something else: a radiant nexus of pink light, to which Asterius found himself inexorably drawn.</p><p>He stepped closer. The pink glow reflected in his arms and chest. Feelings of hopelessness fell away. He was momentarily transported to a vision of Theseus and himself walking through the overworld, under what had to be olive trees, because Theseus was loudly pointing out the merits and shortcomings of olive varietals and pretending to recognise the birds by their songs, while Asterius listened with his heart turning to soft wax. For a few brief moments, he was happy.</p><p>The fantasy dissolved, but it left Asterius convinced that in the strange light lay power - and answers, perhaps. He reached out to touch it, but Charon’s oar swung down to bar his way. The Boatman extended his other hand - fleshless, bone-thin, unyielding -  toward Asterius and turned it palm up, with the air of expectation. </p><p>Payment. He was demanding payment. Asterius was at a loss. He gripped his labrys tighter. In response, Charon lifted his skeletal visage and uttered a prolonged croak, sounding weary and thoroughly unafraid.</p><p>“I’ll be back,” said Asterius.</p><p>Outside once more, the bull-man leaned heavily against a column and thought of ways to obtain oboloi. Although he had never experienced commerce first-hand, he understood enough from the conversations and reminiscences of other shades. Was there some work he could do? Did such a thing exist in the paradise of Elysium, where food and drink were bountiful and all comforts imaginable were provided as a matter of course?</p><p>He remembered something. A fight against Prince Zagreus, to be precise. He was fond of the memory; it was one of those increasingly rare times when he had gotten the better of the short one all by himself. During their contest, one of Asterius’s roundhouse swings had shattered a vase and silver coins had glinted among the potshards. </p><p>Perhaps this could happen again. </p><p>Asterius prowled the colonnade, looking around for a nearby amphora. He found one. With a flick of the wrist he annihilated it, and peered carefully at the remains. Nothing but ceramic ruin. He moved on to the next. And the next. And the next. The seventh time proved the charm. Coins poured out of the crumbling container. The joy of vindication was quickly replaced by doubt when he weighed them in his hand. At what price, the pink light? How many were needed? Perhaps Asterius would be late for pankration after all.</p><p>He proceeded methodically, amphora by amphora, vase by vase - tall ones, squat ones, small ones, fat ones - a one-man-bull bane of all Elysian pottery. He destroyed them in the stone gardens, and in the fields, and in the hatcheries. He found colonies of vases hidden behind statues of heroes, and others concealed by elegant draperies of royal purple. He even found some half-buried in the fragrant silt of the Lethe. Smashing them was satisfying, in a simple kind of way, and Asterius grew fond of their shrill, clattering death-rattle. His collection of oboloi grew steadily, if slowly.</p><p>As he crouched grubbing through one pile, a pair of strongbows sauntered by. Former Thracians, he guessed, fallen perhaps at the fabled siege of Troy. One of them nudged the other and they veered his way.</p><p>“It’s the Bull of Minos! What in the underworld are you doing, champion?”</p><p>Asterius drew himself up to his full height and fixed the pair with a baleful look. He let out a taurine snort and demolished several containers with a single one-handed sweep. A moment passed. The strongbows exchanged glances and backed away. </p><p>“Right,” one said warily. </p><p>“We’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” said the other. “Good fortune in the arena!”</p><p>A savoury scent, emanating from this latest mess, tickled the bull-man’s broad nostrils. Brushing away the potshards, he uncovered a small package wrapped in parchment on which someone had drawn a smiling face surrounded by little serpentine squiggles and a few hearts. Peeling back the parchment revealed a cone of soft bread filled with a variety of edible ingredients and a dash of yogurt sauce. He devoured it in two bites. It was delicious.</p><p>Back in Charon’s shop, hoisting the labrys on one shoulder and clutching a huge amphora under his other arm, Asterius found to his relief that the pink light-nexus was still present. He rolled the amphora off his hip. It hit the ground in front of the Boatman and broke apart in a spectacular explosion of shards and silver coins.</p><p>“Is this enough?”</p><p>Charon, silent and inscrutable, merely floated off and held his oar in abeyance. The way was clear.</p><p>Asterius thrust his hand through the pink light. He tried to imagine Theseus and felt a wave of cloying bliss instead of self-loathing and regret, but nothing happened besides.</p><p>“Hrrrhhroooohh, hnnng… hhhrooooooagh,” said Charon, from his discreet distance.</p><p>The nexus brightened to a near-blinding intensity - a pink corona with a hot white centre - until it burst, flooding the entire chamber with light. It was like witnessing the birth of a star. Asterius squinted and fought to keep looking. The curvy silhouette of a nude woman emerged and in an instant the light disappeared.</p><p>“Why hello, little godl… oh! But you are not little at all. Such a big one, indeed. So tall and so… beefy.” The woman - golden-skinned, full-figured and strikingly beautiful - circled Asterius slowly. She trailed a finger across his shoulderblades and a tremor passed over his body as it came alive with the memory of Theseus’s touch.</p><p>“This is certainly a surprise.” Her voice carried a note of warning. She glanced in Charon’s direction. The Boatman may have shrugged. It was difficult to tell.</p><p> Her complexion shone with a faint glow. Ephemeral mirages of hearts and blossoms floated in her wake. Her hair, pink like the irises of her eyes and long enough to brush past her hips, appeared to float and twist and forever rearrange itself in elaborate curlicues. Above all, she radiated power - the awe-inspiring, devastating power of Olympus. At last, Asterius recognised who she was.</p><p>“Now wait…” The goddess tilted her head and raised her face, as if scenting the air. Suddenly, she smiled, triumphant. “Oh, this is interesting. There is love buried somewhere in there, I can tell. Oh, you poor suffering fool, this won’t do at all! Love under all those layers of pain and uncertainty and self-doubt. Suffocated little love.” Playfully, she addressed Asterius’s midsection. “Hello, there, little love! It’s Dite!”</p><p>“Do I… love him, then, my lady?” asked the bull-man quietly.</p><p>“Without a doubt, dearest. The question is, which kind of love?”</p><p>“Things seem to have changed of late,” he confessed in his deepest, most obscuring rumble. </p><p>“So they have,” Aphrodite agreed. She paced around him again, swaying her hips languidly. “And when will you tell shiny Theseus just how you feel? The sooner the better, my advice. Since gloomy old Uncle Hades has agreed not to torture you, there’s no need to take on the job yourself.”</p><p>“I… don’t know how I feel. Nor do I have the words.” Inwardly, he fretted. What had he unleashed with his potful of silver coins? The aid of Olympian gods was meant for kings and divine princes, not creatures such as he.</p><p>“Kings and divine princes,” Aphrodite scoffed and halted her stride. Of course she’d heard his thoughts. “And what are you if not that… Asterius, Prince of Crete, Grandchild of the Sun? </p><p>Asterius blanched. The Goddess of Love turned abruptly, stalked up to him, and pressed her palm to his chest.</p><p>“Oh, you poor bull. My heart breaks for you. No rightful honours, no glory, not even the simplest joys due a shepherd or a beggar. When his strong arm wrapped around your neck and released you from loneliness and pain… is it any wonder that felt like a lover’s caress?”</p><p>He gripped his labrys for comfort and dared not speak.</p><p>“And then he took your hand and led you out of Erebus and into the light of paradise. And you’ve fought at his side ever since. Oh, and now it’s all come to a boil, hasn’t it.” Aphrodite gave him a smile so radiant it flattened the fur of his face like a gust of wind. “Well, don’t worry, dear. I’ll mend everything. Now, find a moment when you and the King of Athens are both at your happiest. Call on me then. All right?”</p><p>“I think I know when that is, Lady Aphrodite. And… thank you.”</p><p>In the grand arena of Elysium, the spectral crowd roared and nearly floated out of the stands. Among the flickering sea of pennants, the owl of Athens was perhaps best represented, but the lyre of Thebes made a good showing, and the Lacedaemonian lambda, the Corinthian pegasus, and many others. Regardless, old mortal rivalries were set aside for this bout. It was a matter of Elysian honour against a challenge from the very depths of hell. The flame-footed Prince Zagreus had come.</p><p>The words of the goddess still ringing in his ears, Asterius fought desperately, harder perhaps than ever before. Though his horn was broken and his muzzle smashed bloody, his vigour would not flag. A leaping overhead swing found its mark: he felt a satisfying squish of his foe’s soft flesh under the labrys-blade, heard him grunt and spit an oath of blood and darkness. But the short one gave as well as he got, peppering the bull-man’s torso with quick strikes of his spear, too quick to parry. Lightning crackled from the jabs to bite at Asterius’s muscles, stiffening them painfully. No matter. Pain was an old friend. And death, if it came, would not be forever.</p><p>A hissing thunderbolt arced away from his body and Asterius knew without looking that Theseus had been struck. With alternating side-swings of the labrys, he tried to contain his adversary against a pillar, to spare his bondmate further trouble. From behind, Theseus’s thrown spear brushed past Asterius’s ear like a kiss. Godblood sprayed the bull-man’s face from a deep gash in Zagreus’s upper arm. Quick as a blur, the diminutive prince ducked under the labrys and was gone.</p><p>“Keep running, blackguard!” shouted the Champion. “You may not avert the inevitable, but prolong your humiliation if you wish!” </p><p>He caught up with Asterius and vaulted onto the flat of the bull-man’s double blade. There was no need for words - their bodies worked as one. Asterius heaved the weapon with all his power and Theseus sprung forward at the top of the swing, carrying its full momentum into his flight.</p><p>“Bullhorn!!”</p><p>Zagreus dashed away, just. Theseus rolled gracefully to his feet and raised his shield against counterattack. Asterius trotted near.</p><p>The three of them circled each other, heavily battered. Zagreus’s expression was a picture of sullen disdain. Theseus, his oiled countenance sullied by blood, sweat and dust, flashed a madman’s smile, revealing perfect white teeth. Roughed up yet undeterred, he was fully convinced of coming victory. And he was happy. And these were the moments when Asterius loved him best.</p><p>Often, at just such a late point in a heavy bout, the Prince and the Champion would compete for favour from the gods. Perhaps Olympus was listening. Perhaps this was the time. Asterius’s heart pounded from more than just the exertion of combat. He rarely raised his voice to its full volume. He did so now.</p><p>“Lady Aphrodite!” The bull-man’s cry shook the arena, stunning the spectators into silence. “I, Asterius, beseech you for your presence!”</p><p>“Asterius!?” shrieked Theseus, astonished.</p><p>“Oh, this should be good.” Zagreus lowered his spear.</p><p>A blazing column of pink light struck the centre of the arena; nearby pillars cast sudden shadows. The Goddess of Love sauntered out upon the stone-cut mosaic of clasping hands. She gave a small fingerwave to the crowd, which responded with a wary murmur.</p><p>“So much passion and verve in this place, and all of it spent on violence.” Aphrodite wrinkled her nose. “It would please my dear Lord Ares much better than it pleases me, I must say… but a promise is a promise.”</p><p>Theseus recovered his bearing. “Lady Aphrodite! Since you have chosen fit to honour Asterius and myself with your blessing, we stand ready to vanquish this fiend in your name!”</p><p>The goddess turned to face him. “Greetings, King Theseus. There will be no vanquishing just now, thank you. Indeed, if any of you three persist, why, wouldn’t that mean you’re spurning my efforts here? I don’t think anyone wants me to feel that way, do we?”</p><p>Asterius dropped the head of his labrys to the ground and rested his hands on its pommel. Zagreus, looking quite confused and far too battered to try Aphrodite’s temper, gave a small nod.</p><p>“Speaking of rejection… and crippling fear of it… Theseus, I will give you one chance to do this your way. Is there something you wish to say to Asterius here? Something you haven’t said before, perhaps? Something from the heart?”</p><p>Slowly, Asterius turned his gaze to the Champion of Elysium. In combat, a single stroke, delivered without hesitation, meant the difference between victory and death. Perhaps it was so with love, too. The King’s next words would grant him boundless happiness or fathomless despair.</p><p>Theseus looked trapped. He held his shield flush with his torso, as though it could serve to protect him from embarrassment. “I, er. Well…”</p><p>“Theseus, at a loss for words,” observed Zagreus. “Never thought I’d see the day. Or night.”</p><p>“Shush, little godling,” Aphrodite chided.</p><p>“Lady Aphrodite, Thunderer’s golden daughter, I implore you…” stammered Theseus, vivid colour rushing to his cheeks. “Now is scarcely the time… or this the place… our audience thirsts for blood and glory!”</p><p>The goddess pursed her lips and waved an impatient flourish in the air. A wave of cheers swept the crowd, and most of the shades broke eagerly into chant: “A-phro-di-te! A-phro-di-te!”</p><p>““They’re fine,” she said pointedly.</p><p>Asterius lowered his head and stared at his own shadow - its monstrous bulk, its one remaining good horn. He let his shoulders droop. The fatigue, pain and damage of the battle, no longer suppressed by his heart’s wild hope, assembled like a chorus to jeer his failure. All he had managed to do was to make Theseus uncomfortable in front of all Elysium, to deprive him of the battle he loved so much, and to poison with asymmetry of feelings their heretofore unbreakable bond. Not to mention waste an Olympian’s time. In his sorrow, he almost welcomed her wrath.</p><p>“Do not trouble yourself, King,” he spoke up. “It is no matter. I have made an error, that is all. Let us finish this contest.”</p><p>“Oh, you two are hopeless!” erupted Aphrodite. “I’ll have you know I am usually far more subtle. So much delight is lost when we skip the game… but this has gone on for far too long.” She extended her arms out to the sides and beckoned to them both with little curls of her fingers. “Come here. Closer. Cloooo… ser. There you are.”</p><p>The last thing Asterius saw, beyond the swirling cloud of Aphrodite’s tresses, were Theseus’s blue eyes, and within them something he had never seen before: uncertainty. Then he felt the goddess’s cool hand over his heart and his surroundings - Theseus, Aphrodite, Zagreus, the arena - disappeared like a torn-down tapestry.</p><p>In their place, he saw himself, strong and beautiful in a way no mirror or crystal pond had ever conveyed. The towering bull-man of his vision turned his way and he felt the overwhelming need to caress the bovine face. He lifted a hand, but it was not his own. That bright, oiled forearm belonged to the man he adored - and then Asterius was a spectator again, a still and silent presence in the darkness while he experienced the gamut of Theseus’s emotions. Love, first and foremost, so powerful and certain that its knowledge all but moved the Bull of Minos to tears. Beside it, pride. He experienced the Champion’s ferocious pride in its fullness. Until now, he had only seen its glimpses - his preening, his shouting, his posturing for the crowd - and it was like having known a great bonfire only by the sparks.</p><p>The vision-Asterius turned away and rumbled some refusal under his breath. The spectator felt the depths of Theseus’s dismay and yearned to grasp his vision-double by the horns and shake sense into him. He felt how unbearable this was, how much worse than mere defeat in the arena, or any other setback. Vexing though it was to endure Theseus thinking that he, Asterius, might turn him down, the bull-man understood why his bondmate had struggled to speak his true feelings.</p><p>Everything went bright. Then pink. Then the Elysium arena came back, gradually, as though his sight were returning after staring too long at the sun.</p><p>The goddess Aphrodite stepped aside. She glanced down at her hands and lightly rubbed the fingertips of each against the ball of its thumb. “Well. I hope this clarifies things a little?”</p><p>Theseus stood slack-jawed and wide eyed. His expression mixed astonishment with growing elation, and Asterius cringed inwardly, wondering what vision he might have received in his turn.</p><p>“Asterius…” the Champion whispered at last. </p><p>“Then you feel as I do, King.”</p><p>Theseus brightened. His smile transcended his customary taunting smirk and became a big goofy grin. “You need scarcely ask, my peerless boon companion… no! My beloved!” He threw his arms wide, still holding his spear and shield, and flew at Asterius, who let go of his labrys-pommel and caught him in a powerful hug. The Athenian’s armaments tinked together merrily behind the bull-man’s back. Asterius would remember that embrace for all eternity.</p><p>“Are we still going to fight?” asked Zagreus.</p><p>“Be silent, hellspawn! Do not besmirch this perfect moment with your prattle. Our newly revealed passion shall render handsome Asterius and myself stronger than ever against your pitiful attempts to escape!”</p><p>“I think you can go, short one,” muttered Asterius, his arms still wrapped around Theseus.</p><p>The Prince rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad everything worked out. Though Father won’t be pleased.”</p><p>“Your Father’s never pleased,” said Aphrodite. “If you ask me, he could do with a good pleasing. Now dash along, won’t you, little godling? And give him a good drubbing for me. Me, I’m desperately needed… anywhere but here.”</p><p>“Asterius!” shouted the Champion of Elysium. “My soulmate, my perfection! Let us repair to the pavilions of paradise and gaze into each other’s eyes and sample all the pleasures love has to offer. Oh, the magnificence! I, Theseus, am in love! I ask you, what could be grander than that? Would that a poet of sufficient talent could be found to sing of it! Or a playwright!”</p>
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